Rubbertramp readers and a fried Twinkie

The Dome Rock area is dotted with motorhomes, fifth wheels, vans, and fiberglass trailers.

That's Dome Rock in the background

It’s late afternoon and the crew needs to walk off their energy. We proceed up the lane toward Dome Rock. Several people are camped up this way, and I think they might be the Rubbertramp group. Some of the Rubbertramps have commented here on my blog, so I’m curious to meet them.

I see a group of men standing together.

“Is this the Rubbertramp group?” I ask.

“Yes, it is. I’m Brian,” he says with a handshake. “The women are over there if you’d like to go talk to them.”

The crew and I go over and I see about twenty women sitting in chairs in a circle. They’re swapping stories. Someone brings me a chair and soon I find a break in the conversation.

“Hi. I’m camping with the Casita group down there. I write a blog and one of my readers said I should come up here to meet some of my other readers. My blog is rvsue and her canine crew.”

“I’m Judy!” one lady calls out. “I’m Katie!” joins in another, and I immediately recall they’ve commented on my blog. Everyone laughs as cyberpals become real in an instant. Another woman explains that most of their members are “van dwellers” but anyone can join the group. The next day Judy and her husband drop by our campsite and I learn they are here all the way from Ohio.

The next morning a group goes into town for breakfast.

Campers and camper-dogs gather for a morning pow-wow (and bow-wow?).

Advice to Bridget: Never allow a butt-shot while next to an Italian Greyhound."

I decide to stay in camp and no one pressures me to go, which I really appreciate.

Later I find that Clete and Chris didn’t go for breakfast either. They tell me they’re going home to San Diego today and are going to make one last visit to the vendors in town.

“Do you want to go with us?”

The crew and I get in the back of their SUV with their Italian Greyhound, Diego.

“Have you ever had a fried Twinkie?” Clete asks.

“Um, no, can’t say I have, “ I answer.

Eating a fried Twinkie becomes our quest.

Clete waits in line at a booth doing a busy trade of polish sausages with sauerkraut, fried onions, and fried peppers, along with several other greasy treats. Oh, the aromas! Clete finally gets his hands on a fried Twinkie after parting with four dollars, and he shares it with Chris and me. It tastes like a doughnut only with a slight, residual bellyache!

Later, after hugs and goodbyes, the group waves them on their way.

I shout, “Have a safe trip and thanks for the fried Twinkie!”

Clete yells back before driving away, “Thanks for eating half of it!”

The following day I do Quartzite with Chuck and Geri and some serious shopping takes place! I promise to post some photos. I’ll also share a tally of what I spent, even though it will cause me pocketbook pain all over again.

Sue — Ditto what Emily said. Chuck and Geri used to belong to our Casita Solos group at one time. Hope you stick around Dome Rock until Feb 8th when a fleet of Casitas will be arriving from Buckskin Mtn State Park!

“pocketbook pain ” LOVE the description. The key is to be sure that the pain now translates into enjoyment as you use and enjoy the stuff you bought. Beats the heck out of “theraputic shopping” that some folks do for stuff they don’t need and will never use. I bet you did some careful shopping and got great stuff that will either make your life easier or give you pleasure – or BOTH. Glad you’re enjoying Quartzsite. It’s something we want to experience also. Maybe next year.

Was thinking of you today driving past Dome rock on the way to and from Quartzsite. Thank goodness my shopping list was short and I didn’t put a Big dent in the pocketbook. Now I don’t know about fried Twinkies, but the smell of the brats, onions and kraut were irresistible.

Hey Sue, when you post your spending, is there any chance you could include a running total for the year? Oh wait, that would require more record keeping. But some folks contemplating full timing might like to know the total yearly cost. The pocket book pain should be a lot less when you average the costs over the total days you’re living the life you want.

I retired with 30 yrs of railroad policing experience that included dealing with the original rubbertrampers. I have to smile when people consider themselves rubbertrampers. They must have notice my using the term on this blog. Best to find out what the expression means before deciding if they want to call themselves rubbertrampers.

I have been reading since the blog beginning and have had numerous brilliant comments formulated in my mind only to see that Comments were Closed. Now here I am on a posting that allows me to Comment and I have nothing to say, except I have enjoyed the read!